


Masquerade

by magnoliafilms



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Blood, Consensual Blood Drinking, Friends With Benefits, Kissing, M/M, The benefit being that Yuta drinks Mark's blood on the regular., Vampires, blasphemy?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27716080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnoliafilms/pseuds/magnoliafilms
Summary: They can dress him up all they like. Paint rose red blush over sallow skin, dress him in colours that “bring out the darker tones of his eyes,” try to hide the monster that crawls under his skin.Sometimes he believes them. Lets their words sink in.“Killer.” They say. “Monster.”He’s used to it. It stung when he was younger, but now he wears each curse like a badge of honour.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 7
Kudos: 110
Collections: THE COLLECTION





	Masquerade

**Author's Note:**

> A take on the Dream Lab Bingo Square: Friends with Benefits!
> 
> Yes this did spawn from the Resonance Arrival Ver. teasers, and I'm not mad about it.

Yuta enters the room cautiously at first. He’s never been very good at handling these types of things, but when it’s expected of him, he makes it work.

Mark is here. He can taste it in the air, in the shifting of the crowd. They’re all masked, hundreds of nobles dancing in the most flamboyant masks Yuta’s ever seen. But he knows that he’ll find Mark easily enough. 

He lets himself move through the crowd. The material of his own mask scratches against the skin around his eyes, but removing it would mean making himself vulnerable. Would mean making himself known. 

It’s dangerous for people like him. But his family is expected to hold up appearances, and his mother would rather die than let her eldest son stay home. 

They can dress him up all they like. Paint rose red blush over sallow skin, dress him in colours that “bring out the darker tones of his eyes,” try to hide the monster that crawls under his skin. 

Sometimes he believes them. Lets their words sink in. 

“ _ Killer _ .” They say. “ _ Monster.” _

_ “Pity he’s turned out that way isn’t it?” _

_ “Disgrace.” _

_ “Abomination _ .”

He’s used to it. It stung when he was younger, but now he wears each curse like a badge of honour. 

He moves wordlessly past partygoers, content with the knowledge that he could kill them all in a heartbeat. Though the presence of so many warm bodies in such a cramped space makes him anxious, forces the hairs at the back of his neck to stand on end.

He grits his teeth. As long as he remains anonymous, he will be safe. 

He spies him then. The crowd shifts and Yuta catches the slightest glimpse of silvery hair. He pushes forwards. 

They always put Mark in the prettiest clothes. This evening he’s wearing a gorgeous black shirt that’s embroidered with red flowers, accented with silver pearls. 

A woman pushes past him and Yuta can practically taste the metallic tang of her blood. His gums strain as his fangs try to push through. He runs the tip of his tongue along the swelling flesh. 

_ Not here. _ He thinks worriedly. If he can just get out into an empty corridor, he’ll be fine. 

Mark is facing the other direction when he catches up to him. He’s speaking to some other masked noble, and when Yuta clasps around his wrist, he squawks like a small bird. It’s endearing, and Yuta forces a brief smile out before his eyes turn serious. 

“I hate to ask something like this of you here, of all places,” He says quietly, drawing Mark in to press his lips against his ear, flicks his bottom lip over the piercing nestled in Mark’s lobe. 

“ _ Dude– _ ” Mark hisses softly.

Yuta notices the way Mark’s jaw tightens. He glances around them, checking to see if anyone overheard. His hand darts to the ribbons securing his mask in place. It’s beautiful, adorned with red and black roses to match his shirt. 

There’s a beat of tense silence, and Yuta thinks Mark might slip from his grasp and disappear into the crowd. 

And then Mark’s cupping Yuta’s jaw, pulling him in and pressing his lips right up to Yuta’s ear. His blunt teeth scrape against the inner shell of Yuta’s ear and he shivers as Mark gently says, “Can you give me a second? I’ll meet you in the hallway out that door.”

Yuta nods. His teeth are throbbing and he can only imagine how deranged he would look if his mask didn’t conceal his face so well. Mark gives his hand a final squeeze before turning back to the gentleman he was speaking to before.

Yuta turns and makes a beeline for the door. Mark will come, he always does. Yuta has learnt to be patient. 

He tips his head at the guard who watches him curiously, before hauling open the heavy ballroom door and slipping outside. 

He paces, shoes clicking as he moves up and down the hallway. Mark’s mother is even stricter than his own. She tends to hover. It’s likely that Mark spotted her amongst the masked guests where Yuta could not.

Mark will come.

Yuta presses his back against the wall, feels the way the fabric of his shirt bunches up as he slides down it until he hits the ground.

He waits. 

After a while, he’s all but lost hope. Until the hallway door cracks open the smallest inch. A hand makes its way through first. Slender, decorated with deliciously expensive silver jewellery.  _ It matches his hair _ , Yuta thinks fleetingly as the rest of Mark appears.

He stands, pushing himself upwards and proceeds to move to stand beside Mark. 

Mark takes his hand —he knows this place better than Yuta does. He drags him down an adjoining corridor and it’s within moments that he’s found them a spare room.

“Lavish enough for you,” he says cockily, gesturing towards the bed. 

Yuta hums, before turning on Mark and crowding him up against the wall. He takes his time, gently undoing the silk ribbon that keeps Mark’s mask in place. He’s careful when he sets it down, he knows Mark will want everything immaculate when he leaves. When they inevitably return to the ball.

He undoes his own mask, lays it down on the vanity counter beside Mark’s. There’s a strange wetness in his mouth as his fangs slide out. Despite how many times it’s happened, it still freaks him out whenever they pop. 

His lips curl to accommodate the extra teeth. 

“Is it that bad?” Mark says quietly, there’s something close to concern in his eyes, and Yuta feels almost ashamed of what he’s asking Mark to do for him. 

He hangs his head, keeping his eyes on the ground as he speaks, “It's always bad when there’s a crowd like that.”

His mouth is full. It's difficult to speak around his elongated canines. 

And Mark is kind, which is probably the worst part. “It’s okay, Dude.  _ You’re okay _ . You can take what you need, and then we can go find you a nice, quiet corner, away from all the  _ blood bags _ .”

It’s a phrase Yuta started using when he was first turned, something Mark held onto. Yuta smiled and lifted a hand to press his thumbs against the blush covering Mark’s cheeks. When he pulls each one away, there’s a light patch that burns through the redness. 

It’s a reminder to be careful, a reminder that he has to keep Mark safe. 

“Do you want to do this on the bed?” Mark says gently, caring as always.

Yuta shudders, thinking of previous nights like this. He turns to look at the white sheets that line the double king pressed against the wall. “I don’t want to leave bloodstains,  _ what if someone sees _ .”

Mark smiles at him gently, Yuta thinks he could fall in love with that smile. “You’re okay. I know some of the staff, I can ask one of them to take care of it.”

Yuta tries to calm himself down. He has no pulse to remind him that if he had a heart rate, it would be through the damn roof. Mark takes his hand. Steady. Grounding. 

He leads him over to the bed, and sits him down on the duvet. Mark lifts his own hands to unbutton his gorgeous floral shirt. 

Yuta leans forwards almost immediately, gently batting his hands out of the way and taking on the task himself. 

“Sorry,” Mark says with a nervous laugh, “I just– I need it clean… For when we go back.”

Yuta doesn’t blame him, and focuses on his hands once more. He gets to the fourth button and suddenly pulls back. His hand burning hot.

Mark looks frightened. ‘Yuta?” He asks quickly, and the worry that seeps into his voice is potent. 

“ _ Shit _ ,” Yuta curses, shaking out his hand, “Are you– Are you wearing a ward?”

It’s not accusatory, but Mark’s face crumbles almost immediately. 

“I fucking  _ knew  _ it.” He hisses, and for the first in a very long time, Yuta watches as he gets  _ angry _ . He forces a hand down his shirt, brings it back up with a charm clasped against his palm. He snaps the chain that held it around his neck, “My mother said that I just  _ had _ to wear this.”

He opens his hand, and the chain rattles heavily against his silver rings.

Right in the center is a golden cross. 

Mark glares at it, before tossing it across the room angrily. “I’m sorry.” He says quietly, “I didn’t even think about it and now you’re hurt, and—”

Yuta reaches a hand forward and takes Mark’s hand, pulling him closer once more. 

“It’s alright, Mark.” He says evenly, before taking the buttons of Mark’s shirt into his hands and finishing the job, folding the garment carefully and moving to set it on the vanity beside their masks.

Mark ends up leant against the white pillows at the head of the bed. Yuta feels a little bad for the cleaning staff, but he supposes there are worse places he’s had to do this. And besides, it doesn’t always have to be messy. 

“You’re sure?” Yuta says as he straddles him and bends down to ghost his breath along Mark’s jugular. 

Mark laughs, “You ask every time, Dude. My answer isn’t going to change.”

Yuta shakes his head, “I’ll keep asking, Mark. It isn’t fair to expect something like this of you.”

“ _ Dude, _ ” Mark says again, “Keep saying stuff like that and I’ll fall in love with you or something.”

Yuta freezes and pulls away slightly. He’s sure that Mark notices the way his breath stops, the tiny gasp he lets out at that. He powers through. “But you’re sure?”

“Yes, Yuta.” Mark says seriously, and when Yuta looks in his eyes, he knows it for sure. 

Yuta nods, and then leans forwards, cupping the side of Mark’s face in one hand. He tilts it to the side, exposing the soft skin along the side of his neck. 

He uses the other hand to hold onto Mark’s shoulder, holding him gently so that the angle is right. 

He sinks his teeth in, and Mark gasps. The incision is always the worst part. Mark’s hand curls into the blanket beneath them. Yuta uses the hand cradling Mark’s head to trace gentle patterns in his skin. He knows that it aches, but for Mark, the numbing euphoric feeling tends to come a lot faster. 

He drinks deeply, draws blood into his mouth and laps at the skin around the incision like a madman. 

His mouth feels thick, like he’s been sucking on a milkshake for too long, but Mark tastes amazing, like fresh honeycomb and salted caramel. Yuta wonders if he only thinks that because he hasn’t fed on many people, or if it’s simply because it's  _ Mark. _

The tiny sounds Mark makes as he drinks from his neck fill his ears and he hums, dropping his fingers to comb through the hair at the back of Mark’s head. 

He lowers his other hand to drag blunt nails over Mark’s bare torso. 

He can feel the sharp intake of breath Mark does, the slow way his body shifts beneath him. Sated, he pulls his fangs free from Mark’s neck, licks the wounds clean and closed and then sits back on his heels to wipe a hand over his mouth. 

He’s done well. Managed to keep most of the blood in his mouth. The only sign they were even here is the tiniest splatter on the white pillow behind Mark’s head. 

Mark stays for a minute, just breathing. He sits up slowly, and Yuta wants to rush forwards and help him sit up. But he manages on his own just fine.

“Okay?” Yuta asks quietly, shifting to sit next to Mark on the bed.

Mark nods. There’s a pause. A quiet passing of time where they simply stare at each other, side by side in a stranger’s guest bed. 

Then Mark reaches forwards and takes Yuta’s chin into his hands. His lips are warm and pliable as he presses them firmly against Yuta’s and Mark hesitates fearfully for a heartbeat, allowing Yuta room to pull away in disgust. Yuta wouldn’t dream of it.

The kissing is… New, to say the least.

And it sure as hell isn’t offputting.

Yuta kisses him back, framing Mark’s face with his hands, licking into his mouth easily. He wonders briefly if Mark can taste the blood in his mouth, the residue left behind. But then Mark’s twisting his fingers into Yuta’s hair and pressing up against him, tangling their legs together. 

They spend so long entwined in each other that it’s  _ Yuta _ who pulls away first. He’s sure he looks like an absolute wreck, and Mark isn’t faring much better. His eyes are wide and his hair is sticking up all over the place. 

Yuta has to take a second to compose himself, “As much as,” he gestures at Mark, “ _ all this  _ is really doing it for me, Your mother is going to be looking for you.”

Mark curses softly under his breath. 

Yuta rolls off of the bed and moves to the vanity where their things are. He purposely avoids the corner where Mark threw his necklace.

He helps Mark to pull on his shirt, checking the bite marks one last time as he does up the buttons. They’re already healing nicely, and if Yuta’s right, they won’t be more than a bruise by tomorrow morning.

The collar of Mark’s shirt is high enough to hide them for now though, and he presses one last kiss against them as he does up the top button.

He pulls away quickly, “ _ Sorry _ . Was that– Was that weird?”

But Mark just smiles at him, “Dude…” 

And then with another grin, he pulls Yuta in for another kiss. It’s gentle. Soft and quick. A reminder that Mark is  _ there _ . 

Yuta’s careful when he ties Mark’s mask back in place, makes sure it's neat, tidy like one of the waitstaff would have done. Mark takes Yuta’s mask and ties it on for him. They don’t talk about what the kissing means.

But it doesn’t stop Mark from pressing another kiss to his mouth just before they leave the room, cross discarded on the floor. Doesn’t stop him from walking back into the ballroom hand in hand with a  _ vampire _ of all things.

“ _ Blood bags _ ,” Mark says with a laugh. He’s a little wobbly on his feet —side effects of the blood loss— and Yuta doesn’t waste any time on looping his arm around Mark’s waist for extra support. 

“But you’re my favourite,” Yuta whispers, and the smile that Mark rewards him with is golden. 

Mark drops kisses like compliments along the skin on the inside of Yuta’s arm, across his knuckles, sneakily presses them against Yuta’s neck when they’re alone, when they’re taking refuge in dark corners of the ballroom. 

He doesn’t leave Yuta’s side for the rest of the night, slipping their hands together or linking their arms at the elbow. 

And who’s to say whether they leave together. Whether they creep out some back door with the aid of Mark’s friends among the staff. 

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/thekeehorse)  
> • [cc](https://curiouscat.me/ghoulhwa)  
> 


End file.
